


A Beautiful Thought

by resurrectionmercy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Pining, Post-Recall, Rain, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resurrectionmercy/pseuds/resurrectionmercy
Summary: She loves him.





	A Beautiful Thought

* * *

 

  
She loves him. It's a beautiful thought that she gives to that stormy day, her buttercream hair heavy over her neck and forehead and temples and cheeks, with streams of water running down her face and her jaw and her collarbones into her white shirt. Her fingertips curl around the collar of it, tug it down where it feels too close to her skin, her blue eyes towards the steel grey waters ahead, horizon hidden behind the curtain of rain and the mist lifted like a sheet between this continent and the next.

She loves him, whether or not she should, and whether or not he feels the same. She loves him, and there's nothing she can do.

The cliff is hard against her knees in places, in others, the grass and earth gathered over it makes it feel deceptively soft. She settles there, legs bent underneath her before she straightens them out and hugs them close to her chest, and she plants her chin upon them, eyes heavy-lidded and lashes wet. She's so tired; tired from work, from a sleepless night, but more so just tired in a way she can't really describe. The world feels so heavy on her now, and it's seemed that way much longer than since she got here. And still... the sound of the aircraft returning, with no bad news heralding its landing, with the hum and buzz of the reanimated base around it, she feels at ease now, like some of that weight's been lifted. She walked in the other direction - took off from her office, exited the whole building, and came here.

Still, she doesn't find herself too surprised, or shocked at all, to hear his footsteps behind her. They come eventually, naturally, once he's done with his debriefing, and she can hear him unzipping his clothes, a warm black hooded shirt, before she feels him drape it over her shoulders. She lifts her gaze to him and smiles thankfully.

"You're going to catch a cold," he tells her in a firm but gentle voice. "You should come back inside."

She doesn't ask him how he found her. He seems to always simply know where to look. Now, he settles beside her, with little regard for his so far dry joggers now inevitably wet from contact to the downpour-riddled stone, or his thin grey shirt that's battered by the raindrops slowly gluing it to the metallic twists and turns of his upper body. He tilts his head and looks at her with a smile, his brown eyes soft and warm, and she shudders with cold, letting him bring his arm around her.

"What are you doing? I expected you there when we landed."

"I had to get some fresh air. I've been locked up in the medical bay for - years, Genji."

His arm is heavy and his frame warm. He's uninjured, unshaken, in one piece and safely back from the mission. She closes her eyes and lets her head droop down to his shoulder, and he holds her a little bit tighter.

"It's raining, Angela," Genji tells her, his voice concealing the tone of concern beneath a layer of friendly amusement. "I don't know if you've noticed yet."

She doesn't know how to explain it to him. The relief she felt at the sound of that craft travelling through their airspace, or the emotion that drove her away from it as all the fear she had barely registered she was carrying came flooding out of her like blood out of a gunshot wound. Of course, he'd understand it. He had to feel the same way every time one of them was in danger. They were friends, of course, all of them, or something like a family; so tight-knit in their circumstances that sometimes it seemed like their bubble was the realest thing in the world, even more so than all the years Angela had spent away from there, thinking she was free from the suffocating moral grey of Overwatch. Yet, she can't bring herself to tell him, and his understanding is the one reason why. Yes, he understands her concern, but not the right shade and tone of it, the exact weight and colour, the location of its pressure. The sigh that escapes her trembles on the way out and she shakes, shakes from the cold and from that tension within her.

She loves him, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world that he's safe beside her, no longer lost, no longer unreachable... and it's better if he never knows.


End file.
